Where We Stand
by valiasedai
Summary: Amidst the death and destruction wrought by the Architect, Erise must learn to trust the Seneschal who keeps the Vigil whole.  A Varel/Orlesian Commander story.
1. Empty Blood

The rain was seeping beneath her collar, soaking the wool padding beneath the heavy plate. The greatsword's weight in her hands was excruciating – one of the bastards had gotten a hit under her arm, and bright red blood was running down her side, mixing with the black that covered her in spurts and spatters. The familiar sensation of healing magic blossomed in her shoulder as Erise moved towards the grey-haired man and extended an arm. The movement hurt, but she clenched her jaw to stifle a wince. She could not show weakness.

"Commander?" When she nodded, the man relaxed. "I'm Seneschal Varel." His gaze moved from her face to her arm and the blood that stained her armor. He hesitated once before grabbing her offered hand, a frown forming on his face when she let out a small grunt as he pulled himself to his feet.

His face was inches away, honeyed eyes fixed on hers as the rain streaked down their faces. "Welcome to the Vigil."

* * *

She'd recruited the mage – a choice he couldn't fault – but the young Howe was another story altogether. As he questioned her, her eyes turned as sharp as the daggers on the young man's hips. "In all things at the Keep, I expect you to question me." Her accent lay thick on her tongue. "The one exception is the Wardens. There you will accept my judgment without protest. Is this clear?"

Varel stared a few moments, something inside him fighting against an _Orlesian_ commanding him so clearly. Unable to bring himself to say the words, he could only nod.

* * *

This had been unlike any Joining she'd ever attended. Twenty years a Warden, countless recruits who had put the cups to their lips, dozens dead – none of it compared to the disquiet tonight's ritual had put into her bones. Aside from her own Joining, there'd always been the comforting sensation of other Wardens, of others who _knew_ that it was worth it, others who she could feel in her room at night. Tonight she'd been alone and a stranger had held the cup. She was certain he didn't understand it was her right, her _burden_ to bear as their commander, but she had been too far gone in grief to say anything. Of the dozen Wardens sent from Orlais, eleven were missing. Kristoff had gone to Amaranthine a few days before, and with any luck, she would be able to track him down. She'd known three others who had been here - Gerer, Lyandrin and Laurent. None of them were like Kristoff; he had been more than a brother of the Grey – he was a brother of her heart. It had been that way since the day of her own Joining – he had been there when she woke with a hot bowl of stew and a heel of bread. Until he had been sent ahead, they had been inseparable as Wardens, always at each other's side whenever duty called. Even in the darkest parts of the Deep Roads, the presence of the other had been a comfort and a strength.

It would be two months or more before she could sense the new ones beyond ten paces. As her breath echoed in the cold stone room, hot tears welled in her eyes. She was alone.

* * *

The Commander was in a mood. She'd returned from Amaranthine in the middle of the night, soaked through, swearing in Orlesian. She'd gone alone, insisting she'd return with someone else, but no one had been by her side. He had important orders of business – Mistress Woolsey had given him a sheaf of papers to present to the Commander and he had concerns of his own. The nobles wanted an audience and several of them had arrived during the day, claiming right of residence until they were seen by their liege lord.

When he reached her door, he could hear her pacing – metal on stone, metal on stone. Knocking firmly, Varel drew himself to his full height. The woman made him nervous for reasons he couldn't quite name.

The pacing stopped and there was a long moment of silence before the door opened. The Commander's eyes were red. "Commander, I–" He trailed of as he noticed she was still clad in full, heavy plate and her short hair was damp and plastered against her skull. "You need to get out of your plate. You're soaked."

The Commander settled a cool gaze on him. "My squire is asleep in the barracks and I haven't seen any servants since arriving."

He almost protested, scolding her for the late hour, for travelling alone in bad weather, when a slip or a run-in with even a few darkspawn could turn deadly. Something stopped him and he nodded once. Setting the papers on her desk, Varel motioned for her to turn around. "I haven't forgotten how this style works. If you're willing to listen to some important matters, I can assist."

The Commander raised an eyebrow before complying, nodding once. "Very well. Speak."

The plate came off in bits and pieces, each piece removed and carefully reconstructed on the armor stand. Words tumbled from his mouth and leather buckles slid beneath his hands. She listened in silence.

* * *

_Oodles of thanks (as always) to my lovely beta decantate!_


	2. Broken Trust

Sweat ran into her eyes, making them sting. The air reeked of a wrongness Erise could _taste_. It festered in her mouth, making every breath bitter as her lungs burned. Her skin flushed with the unnatural heat pulsing inside her. The horrifying grub-like creatures had grown strong and lethal on darkspawn flesh. One had stabbed clean through her plate, and though the mage had healed the wound in her gut, it couldn't fully mend without rest.

The hurlock charging her let out a cry – _a worded cry_ – as its massive axe swung towards her. She swung back, meeting the heavy iron handle with her blade, sliding it down to shear off the creature's fingers. Decapitating it with a strong swing, she felt a pain in her side as the half-knitted flesh began to tear anew.

She barely noticed, so bewildered by the absence of the familiar pull of tainted blood. Erise was as blind as the others, and for the first time since she had first felt that haunting call rise, she longed to feel the kinship with those she killed.

The black blood pooled and spilled at her feet and she could only stare.

* * *

"The man was Tainted. He had to die." The Commander was calm, her posture easy. Her manner made a chill run down Varel's spine.

"You may wish to explain your actions to the others." Varel paused a moment when the Commander frowned. "They seemed upset."

"Upset" was an understatement – they'd come to him, babbling about a caged man and Orlesian who coolly slaughtered innocents. Only Sigrun had remained quiet. The Commander's eyes hardened briefly, but Varel quickly moved on. "You have not yet told me if you wish to act on the rumor that the nobles plan to move against you."

There was the slightest twitch at the corner of one of her eyes. "I am not going to play their games. If they move, they face the wrath of the Wardens and the Crown. The King supports me." Shrugging, she waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "Besides, I survived the Imperial Court. I shall survive this."

Something about the decision shifted his opinion. It was unsound and overconfident and yet… It was the _Fereldan_ thing to do.

* * *

Mistress Woolsey was insistent the trade routes needed clearing, while there were additional pleas for the country side, Amaranthine, the Keep. Their numbers were depleted since the original attack, and restoring the Keep was taking a considerable amount of gold.

Varel watched as the Commander mulled over the decision, flipping through pages of reports. Mistress Woolsey and Garavel sat at his side, both of them stiff and leaning forward.

Nodding once, the Commander stood, briefly glancing at Varel. "The Keep has enough to fund a watch for the countryside and the city." Moving to a heavy chest, she bent down and drew a key from around her neck and soon the heavy iron lock clicked open. "My personal funds are enough to hire and train a new contingent for the trade routes. I leave in four days – Captain, Seneschal, I expect you to have two dozen men in training by the time I return." Tossing a heavy pouch onto the desk, she gestured at Mistress Woolsey.

The others nodded and left, but Varel stayed. "You stretch the guard thin, Commander."

He let his eyes follow her as he moved to sit, telling himself he was watching for some hesitation. "Should I leave a particular place open to attack? Amaranthine is the key to supplies by sea and if I let the darkspawn burn fields we will have no food. The country has been at the heart of a Blight for two years and the granaries are almost empty."

It was his turn to be watched, the pale green of her irises unsettling in a face darkened by sun and weathered by years and care. All of it was framed by short brown hair, heavily streaked with grey. Varel leaned forward, returning her stare. "I didn't expect such a decision from an–" _Orlesian_. He caught himself before he finished, but the unspoken word seemed all the louder, echoing in his head and heart.

The Commander's eyes dropped to her desk and he saw her cheeks flush. "I cannot change where I was born, but I had thought in Ferelden people judged on action, not birth. It seems I was wrong about your country." Pushing her chair back, the Commander stood and walked to the door, her footsteps pausing as the latch sounded. "And I was wrong about you."

With that he was alone in her office, gut twisting and churning as weeks of trust lay in fractured pieces on the floor.

* * *

_Many thanks to neaira [dot] awakened for being a great beta for this round, especially on such short notice!_


	3. Mending

Erise watched carefully as the gathered crowd departed. Court was as distasteful here as it had been in Orlais. _At least I had other Wardens there_. Her initial relief at _finally_ being allowed back in the field was already over. Horror and trouble were all she had found here, and she found herself feeling more alone than when she had arrived. The new Wardens were the only ones who sought her out, and they did so rarely. The servants never said anything cruel, but she knew she had won no love from them. All of these were things she had expected, things she could handle, but the Seneschal's words had come as a stinging surprise.

Since her arrival the man had been willing to work with her, never treating her as anything more or less than what she was. She hadn't expected _him_ to hold such prejudice, not when the former lord of the castle had done so much evil.

The last of the petitioners gone, Erise turned on her heel and left without so much as a backwards glance. She needed to work. Personal issues with the Seneschal could wait.

* * *

Varel watched as the Commander disappeared into a hallway. She had said no more than necessary to him today and everything had been delivered in short sentences steeped in coolness. He couldn't blame her for that, not when _he_ was still ashamed for saying something so thoughtless.

"Captain, would you stay here for a little while? I need to speak with the Commander." The other man nodded once and Varel immediately set off for her office.

The faint rustling coming from the library almost escaped his notice as he strode heavily down the hallway, head filled with a dozen different ways to begin. Peering in, he saw the Commander smoothing out a map on one of the large tables, parchment and ink set nearby. He cleared his throat loudly enough for her to hear before stepping into the room. "Commander."

Keeping her eyes set on the map, she gave an absent nod. "Yes?"

Letting out a slow breath, Varel tried to ignore the way his skin was prickling. "I wanted to speak with you." He kept his eyes on her as he moved the door slightly, letting the hinges creak. "Do you mind?"

Waving a hand, she shook her head. "No. What is it?"

Varel closed the door quickly and paused a moment before locking it. It wouldn't do to have someone stumble in. Turning back to the Commander, he was met with an almost flat expression, only a slightly-cocked eyebrow giving away her curiosity. He waited a few moments, all of the elaborate explanations he had tried to construct gone. Simplicity would have to do. "I wish to apologize."

Her face went perfectly smooth. "What have you done wrong?"

Varel blinked and looked around the room, caught off guard. "For what I said last night. It was inappropriate."

The Commander shrugged, but there was a certain stiffness to the casual gesture. "You spoke your mind. I do not expect apologies for your thoughts. Is that all you needed?"

"Yes." Varel let out a sigh as he shook his head. "No. It's not all. I was wrong to say that. You've been good to the people here." _Good to me_. He itched to put the thoughts to words, but he couldn't judge whether or not she would believe him.

"For an Orlesian?" Her voice was thick as she turned her gaze back to the map, and he could see her hands trembling.

Moving towards her, Varel reached to lay a hand on the Commander's back but paused. It wasn't appropriate, but she seemed so damnably sad he felt compelled to do _something_. "That doesn't matter." She turned her head away and he gave in to his original instinct, placing a hand on her back. Varel heard her breath catch when the tips of his gauntlets accidentally brushed the skin at the nape of her neck. Surprised, he pulled away, only to draw a shiver that echoed down his spine.

He held his breath a few moments, waiting for a response, but none came. He turned to leave and paused briefly at the door, glancing back. "The others may not realize it yet, but we needed you. Thank you."

She stayed silent, but the tremble in her hands grew still. It would do.

* * *

_Beta thanks, as usual, to decantate! And xenzen - I had a small mistake in not making something clear, as well as a few text changes since my last beta. Thank you!_


	4. Sorrow and Wrath

"Make sure we are getting what supplies we can from Amaranthine." Erise nodded to a guard at his post, noticing the slight smile as he ducked his head. "If all goes well, the route to Denerim will only be a problem a little longer."

"How long will you be gone, Commander?" Varel's footsteps echoed as loudly as hers as they ascended the steps to the Keep's roof.

Erise paused. "Seven days should be plenty." With a small grunt she pushed the hatch to the roof open. "If we are gone more than ten, send a group after us. No fewer than five." Heavy plate made climbing difficult, and Erise only managed to get up with a bit of luck.

She turned and offered a hand to Varel. He took it, grasping her forearm as she pulled him up. It was an odd thing. She was unused to his open sincerity; she was too accustomed to dealing with the twisted subtleties of court. It was… nice, but an odd adjustment after seven years in the shadow of the Empress.

"Anything else, Commander?" She turned towards him and frowned.

"Yes. My name is Erise. You are welcome to use it." His eyes slid away from hers and she bit back a sigh. "Well, I believe things are in order. Is there anything you wish to discuss before I leave?" There was a line of pine trees that blocked an otherwise excellent line of sight. _They need to be cut_.

"I do, actually." His voice cut into her thoughts just before she could voice them. "The Keep is doing well and the other Wardens seem to be adjusting." Erise nodded. All things considered, her time in Amaranthine had been productive. "What of you?"

She was not prepared for this. Her breath was caught in her chest, fluttering and shallow, and her mouth could not quite form the words. "I–" Emotion welled in her throat. "I have been worse."

It was a poor answer and Varel frowned. "That doesn't tell me much. I'm sure this has been difficult for you."

_Merde_. She'd spent the past three weeks walling up her feelings, waiting until Kristoff returned. It was the only way she'd stayed sane, but it never seemed to get easier. And now the Seneschal offered a willing ear and the thought so tempted her she nearly spoke.

_Non_. She would not pour her troubles at his feet. He did his job well and honorably, and she would not burden him. Erise cleared her throat and gave a short nod. "It has."

He shifted slightly, a soft sigh escaping his lips, but he did not push. They talked of the pines – they would be cleared, the timber cured and used as lumber – and he called her Commander.

_Merde_.

* * *

The elf was mad with grief and snapped at anyone within reach, but Erise was loathe to turn down assistance when the forest was coming to life around them. The deposit of granite was the only joy the forest held. The dwarf would be pleased.

She had to admit a quiet pride in the way the other Wardens had grown into their roles. There was an odd mix of bravado and uncertainty among them, but none flinched from their task. When the tainted man had begged for mercy, none of them had flinched and the silent judgment their eyes had held in Kal'Hirol had been compassion. They were beginning to understand.

Eyeing the mine shaft warily, Erise drew her greatsword and started in. She could sense things down there – at least one was a Warden, the others felt like darkspawn, but wrong in a way she couldn't quite place.

A glyph appeared beneath her feet and her world began to spin, and when she lifted her eyes to find the voice that quietly soothed, her gaze met an unspeakable horror.

* * *

_Cold._

Shuddering from the ice that had settled into her bones, Erise struggled to sit up, her head spinning with the effort. Pain nestled in her wrist, stretching and settling with every movement. Hands were suddenly on her and she began to thrash before Anders' familiar voice met her ears. "We thought you weren't going to wake up."

He helped her to shaky feet, gripping her waist tightly when she finally managed to remain upright. As she pulled away, willing her legs to stop wobbling, she could see the concern in the mage's face; it was mirrored in the other Wardens. The elf sat sullenly in a corner, letting out a furious sigh every now and then. Leaning against the bars, Erise closed her eyes. "What did they do?" She had seen women kept by darkspawn – it was always kinder to kill them.

Nathaniel's voice was hoarse. "They took blood. You were gone hours longer than any of us."

When she looked back to her Wardens their eyes slid away from her gaze. Only the elf remained defiant.

* * *

The hand in hers went limp and a wrenching pang twisted her heart as the tainted song echoing in the man's blood disappeared. She had not known Keenan well, but he was a brother all the same. Gently closing the dead man's eyes, Erise bowed her head. "_Va vers ton Créateur et repose en paix."_

She slipped the wedding ring from bloody fingers and stood, trying to ignore the way her heart ached. "I… _felt_ him die." Anders voice was quiet, almost reverent. "Is that what happens when Wardens – when _we_ die?"

Nodding once, Erise took a few moments to collect herself. It would not do for them to see her cry. "Yes. We feel the moment of death in our brothers and sisters. With time, you will feel the darkspawn die as well, but that is… not the same." Those deaths made the blood soar and the killing became a thing of joy.

* * *

"We can't just leave her!" Nathaniel's eyes were dark.

"She is too concerned with her sister to aid us. She stays." Erise kept her pace brisk, her stride long, and the others had to hurry to keep up.

A frustrated growl escaped the Howe's lips. "How can you be so cold? You only think of how you can use people!"

Her blood ran red-hot and she curled a hand around his throat, slamming him against the cold stone wall. "You have seen the darkspawn and the way their corruption twists and kills everything. You saw our dead brother. You saw _her_ sister, already half-gone to the taint. You saw that… _thing_ and its writings." Her grip tightened and she heard him choke. "We all face this until the day we die and there is _no escaping it_. I will not make a Warden out of her when I think she will desert us given the slightest excuse. Would you want her protecting _your_ sister and her child, when it comes?" His panicked gaze finally broke from hers and he gave the slightest shake of his head.

Releasing him abruptly, she continued up the passage as his gasping breaths echoed from the walls.

* * *

_Many thanks to Malaia for helping me with the French! I also changed "Maker" to "Creator" for this particular instance, as it seemed to be better suited. And, as always, a huge thanks to my beta, decantate. _


	5. Sudden Heat

"We haven't got enough food!" A clod of dirt sailed through the air and the Commander deflected it with her hand.

"Listen!" The peasants muttered a little longer before settling into silence. "You have asked for protection, and we have given it. Now you demand food. The guards – men and women you know – must eat as well. If you wish for food, then pay or work. The Keep needs hands to strengthen it, and all who help will be taken care of."

Some of the crowd nodded, but one man stepped forward. "We should just take it! We don't need some Orlesian bitch telling us we can't eat!" There were quiet murmurs of agreement and Varel reached for his sword, Captain Garavel mirroring his movement.

The Commander raised her hand in a sharp gesture and they paused, hands hovering over their hilts. "You have a chance to earn your food instead of stealing it. I will not tolerate theft so long as I command Vigil's Keep."

Drawing a belt knife the man who had yelled gestured towards the Commander. "Then we'll see how long you last!" He surged forward, half of the crowd following him as the others fled to a far corner of the grounds. Guards rushed forward, steel scraping on scabbards, the Wardens already moving.

The Commander's blade caught the yelling man's arm, muscle and sinew parting easily, the sound of shattering bone accompanied by a despairing scream. Varel lunged at a peasant charging him down with an old pike, catching the rusted weapon with his own. The commoner lost footing and fell back, his life quickly ended with a vicious downward slice.

The whistle of metal through air caught Varel's ear and as he turned to face it, warm red droplets splattered his chin. The Commander's face was grim as she withdrew her blade from a woman, who stumbled and fell, a heavy mace rolling from her hand

The Wardens and guards made quick work of the few left fighting. Gesturing to a sergeant, the Commander barked an order to see to it the people had ways of earning their food. Her gaze settled on the dwarf mason and nodded once. The short man set off, fingers flashing as he began to count the new workers.

Varel wiped the blood from his face, gaze fixed on the Commander.

* * *

Bann Esmerelle was clad in armor, but Erise could see how it weighed on her. She seemed a child in its mother's clothes, vainly trying to fill them. The woman was not a warrior. She was soft in body and bitter in heart and only saw Erise as an obstacle to power. She was foolish and thought a single death would open a place for herself, but she was _wrong_.

A sudden twang caught Erise's ear, and she had barely turned before she heard it hit armor and flesh. Varel let out a low cry and his knees crumpled as the shadows melted and turned into steel and sinew.

The Bann of Amaranthine fell quickly, but the assassins were a challenge. Quick and agile, lightly armored, they moved past her in blurs. Her sword was suddenly cumbersome, and she was pinned in place as she stood guard over Varel's fallen form. Oghren and Sigrun had rushed forward together, making short work of another noble, then a Crow, marked by his tattoos. Nathaniel's bow sung at her side and the heat of Anders' fire warmed her face. They were fighting for their lives and the scent of blood filled her nostrils until they burned, but for the first time it felt like fighting with other Wardens. There was no need for spoken orders, or called out cautions. They fought as one.

* * *

The Commander's knee was pressing down on his shoulder, one hand gripping his wrist tightly. "I'll count to five." He nodded grimly, taking a deep breath. "_Un, deux, trois –_" Pain seared in his forearm and he let out a guttural cry. His vision swam red and it was several moments before it cleared.

A bloodied crossbow bolt met his eyes and he shuddered as he could feel the mage's magic work in his arm. "You said you'd count to five." His voice was alien and rough with pain.

"You were going to tense – it would have caused more damage." The Commander's voice held a note of amusement under the concern. The mage voiced his agreement before leaving to tend another.

Experimentally flexing his hand, Varel found the movement stiff and sore. The Commander's hand covered his. "The arm is still weak and needs rest. I will splint it for you."

The walk to the infirmary passed quietly. Varel sat in silence as she plucked clean strips of cloth from the shelf. The Commander turned towards him as she removed her gauntlets. "Give me your arm." He complied, watching her peel the punctured metal and chain and cloth. The skin beneath was bloody and smooth.

She cleaned the arm, eyes set on the task. "Thank you for saving me, Seneschal." She cleared her throat and paused a moment before continuing. "And for your general… kindnesses."

He nodded once, biting back a grunt. "Why do you insist on calling me 'Seneschal'?" The title was growing old.

"Why do_ you_ insist on calling me 'Commander'?" She frowned at the wrapping before sighing and starting again.

Varel echoed her soft sigh. "I suppose you want me to call you by name?" She nodded once and bent over his arm as her fingers brushed against his skin. Her scent hit him suddenly and he breathed it in deep, his pulse quickening. "Erise."

She turned to meet his gaze and impulse overtook him. He leaned forward, catching her lips with his own. Her mouth was warm and soft and something inside him went liquid hot when her tongue slid against his.

The kiss broke and he opened his eyes to find her gaze holding him. Erise tugged at the wrapping roughly and he winced, glancing down at his arm. She stood then, leaving the room without a word or backwards glance.

Her taste lingered.

* * *

_Bonus chapter for the holiday here as it's given me a little extra free time this week. I'll do my regular update Sunday as well. Thanks as always to decantate for being my tolerant beta! _


	6. Sanctuary

The Keep had never been warm, but tonight was especially cold.

As he turned a corner, a low light caught his eye. It was coming from the small chapel. The former priest had long been dead and the room had seen little use in Rendon's final years. He approached quietly, not wishing to disturb the occupant. He glanced in, a familiar head of hair catching his eye in the dim light. The form shook, head bowed, and whispers in a language he didn't understand echoed in the room.

_ Of course_. Erise had returned from Amaranthine earlier that evening, cold and closed. She had said few words before disappearing to her office with Mistress Woolsey. Varel turned to leave – she had refused his comfort in the past – but a sob escaped her lips just as he began to move. He couldn't go.

She clasped her hands tightly while the pain twisted inside her, sharp and overwhelming. Despair and anger wrestled, each vying for dominance. She couldn't understand, couldn't _think_. "_Porquoi, Créateur?"_

Erise shook her head, half-swallowing a sob. "_Je ne comprend pas. Je–_" Emotion tore her whispered prayer to shreds. If the Maker heard, He was not answering and weeks of stubborn loneliness had finally overwhelmed her. _I have no one_.

"Commander?" Erise's breath caught. _Varel_. She wiped her eyes, her sleeve already damp with tears. "Erise?"

It was no use. The tears still came, wetting her sleeve further. Words staggered from her lips. "_O-oui?_" She shook her head._ "_Yes?"

His footsteps began, growing louder. She could hear every move – the softening of his boots as his feet found the carpet, the creak of the pew as he sat, his armor scraping across the wood. Varel settled in beside her, fingers brushing against her arm. "Erise." She buried her face in her hands, not wanting him to see her despair. "Tell me what's wrong." His voice was filled with kindness and comfort and she could only shake her head, trying to deny the welling need inside her. He moved against her, his arm slipping around her shoulders. "Please."

The whispered plea broke something inside her and she turned to him, clinging and crying against his chest. His arms enveloped her as he whispered soft words to soothe and reassure. Lips briefly pressed against the top of her head, and when he pressed his cheek to her temple she leaned into him, the warmth soothing the ache inside her.

Minutes passed before she found her voice. The memories were too fresh and painful and half a dozen attempts to explain only dissolved into more tears. Fighting the way her voice wavered, Erise struggled to keep her voice level. "The Warden I told you of. Keenan." Varel nodded against her, still pressed close. "His last wish – He wanted me to give his ring to his wife." She inhaled sharply, trying to clear the image of his mangled form from her mind. "I found her today. She was, she was with another man." Bitterness rose in her throat and she swallowed hard. Her hands were shaking again – this time out of rage. "She acted as though she had done nothing wrong – said it was _his _fault for joining. I–"

Erise seethed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "Is that what people think of us? That we are merely adventure-seekers and criminals? Do they think we do nothing?" Hot tears stung her eyes. "Is our sacrifice – _his_ sacrifice – meaningless?"

Varel's arm tightened around her shoulders and he raised a hand to her hair, brushing a few stray strands from her face. "You know it isn't." She held her breath, waiting for him to say more.

There were no more words, and she leaned into him again, closing her eyes. It felt right.

* * *

Silence had been their companion for minutes and Erise had not stirred in his embrace. Her breath had finally calmed and she was so quiet he feared she had fallen asleep. Varel shifted, drawing a quiet grunt. "Are you asleep?"

"Hmm?" She moved a little, pulling away just enough to catch his gaze. "I nearly was." Her eyes fluttered sleepily and a lazy smile formed. Something warm began to curl in his belly as her lips curved. "Thank you, Varel." Her tongue seemed to caress his name, and she ended it in a soft slur that made his pulse quicken.

He can only nod, skin prickling as her eyes settled on him. Their color reminded him of spring and soft, fresh growing things. One of her hands slid into his hair and angled his face downward. Her lips met his, lightly at first. She kissed him again, and it felt like ages before she deepened it, tongue flicking against his lips. He responded eagerly, head spinning as she squirmed and shifted until she had straddled his lap. For once, there was nothing between them but fabric and _Maker _but he'd never been happier to have a woman out of armor. She moved under his hands, arching against them and when he slid them under her tunic she murmured approvingly against his mouth.

When she tore away to catch her breath, he panted with her. He wanted _more_, but words failed him. Erise leaned in again, moving her lips along the line of his jaw and down his neck. He shivered and slid his hands up her back, her skin hot beneath his fingers. Suddenly, she thrust downward, grinding against him and the response _there_ felt far too good to be embarrassed. Teeth suddenly nipped at his neck and he let his head fall back as his he moved his hands downward, slipping them beneath the waist of her breeches. She breathed his name and pressed into his palms; his world became heat and skin and _her._

The statue of Andraste caught Varel's eye and he let out a soft sigh as he remembered _where_ they were. Erise drew back, raising an eyebrow. He licked his lips and slid his hands down her legs, reluctantly moving them to the pew when he reached her knees. "It's late."

She pursed her lips and searched his face a few moments. "So it is."

A groan of protestation nearly broke from his lips as she slid from his lap. The cold of the Keep seeped into him quickly and it took all his self-control to resist pulling her back to him, chapel be damned. Lips brushed his cheek. "Sleep well."

Varel watched her leave, eyes lingering on the curve of her hip, and he knew that sleep would be a long time in coming.


	7. Stay

Kristoff had been gone too long. It had been almost eight weeks since her arrival – eight weeks since he had left the inn in Amaranthine.

A newly-recruited man swung at her awkwardly and she parried easily, throwing him off balance. He nearly fell but caught himself. As he dropped into a crouch, the recruit hugged the shield close to his body.

She knew something was wrong, but the Keep and Amaranthine had kept her busy. Now, however, she had time and cause to go. City and Vigil were strong, and trade had flowed through the Pilgrim's Path. Kristoff would tease her for her concern, as he had before, and Erise could already hear his gentle scolding: _"Ma petit sœur, tu es trop sérieux!"*_

The guard swung again, and she stepped back a few paces, watching as his frustration grew. She usually wasn't quick enough to dodge, but the battered splintmail was light and flexible, and the practice sword weighed no more than half her own. On the practice field she had a speed none of them expected and she used it to her full advantage.

Erise drew her sword back and swung high. The recruit raised his shield and caught the swing, but the blow had him staggering back several paces – he hadn't braced. She was implacable, swinging a second and a third time. The fourth found him on his back, shield clatteringon the ground.

The others watching gave a clap, teasing the young man who had fallen. She held out a hand and pulled him to his feet. "Your form is better. Work on your balance. Lean into a swing if it is aimed at your shield." He nodded once, cheeks flushed, before joining his fellows. She was done for the day.

"Commander?" She turned and met Varel's gaze. His eyes were intent on her. She nodded towards the shed that held the practice gear.

Varel trailed behind her. "Everything you asked me to check is in order." She withdrew a key from her belt and fiddled with the lock a few moments before it gave a satisfying click. "I even asked the staff if anything was needed that we may have overlooked. " She nodded, pulling the heavy door open with a grunt. "Commander, I– "

"I think we have moved _far_ past titles." Erise turned just enough to catch color tint his cheeks as he nodded. "You're certain nothing needs my attention?"

He smiled and shook his head. "No, Erise. I've never seen the Vigil running so well."

"Good." Putting the practice sword on a rusted rack, she began undoing the buckles she could reach. Varel tossed his gauntlets aside before moving to help, tugging at leather straps that were stiff with age and sweat. "I'm leaving to find Kristoff."

His movements faltered a moment. "I see." He cleared his throat. "I'm sure it will be good to have him with you again."

"Yes, the other Wardens have done well, but there is no substitute for time." A small laugh escaped her lips. "I hardly know how to work without him, we have been together so long."

The tugs on her armor stopped abruptly. "You should be able to finish from here. If I have your leave?"

"No, you do not." Erise turned to find her frown matched his. "Is there a problem?"

His expression went smooth and she let out a small grunt. He had learned that look from _her_. "I don't like being toyed with, Commander."

"Toyed with?" She arched an eyebrow at him. "I was unaware that I was misleading. In fact, I recall being rather explicit." She still wasn't sure what Varel wanted – she knew she wanted him for a dozen different reasons – but Fereldans could be prudish with such things.

He gave a soft laugh. "And I was unaware you were otherwise involved."

Erise blinked, mind racing. "I am?"

He nodded, but he would not meet her gaze. "You and Kristoff. You speak of him with such familiarity that I can only assume you two are…"

"What?" She couldn't help the way her features twisted. "Ugh, no. Kristoff is more a brother to me than my own blood. He and his wife are still in love after years of marriage, I'd never–" She shook her head with a low grunt.

The color in Varel's cheeks had risen again and he fidgeted, expression softening. "Oh." There was a small smile tugging at his lips that soothed her. "I'm sorry then." He moved closer and lifted a hand to stroke her cheek. "Though I can't say I'm sorry I was wrong."

Erise leaned into his touch, closing her eyes. She should have been more offended, but it was nicer to let it go. _Much nicer_. "You should feel terrible for suggesting such a thing." She tried to keep her tone stern, but amusement crept in all the same.

His breath warmed her ear and her skin prickled. "Of course." Lips grazed against her temple. "Forgive me."

"Commander?" The voice was young and accompanying footsteps quickly grew louder. Erise let out a soft sigh as Varel stepped away quickly.

One of the younger servants ran into the shed, panting hard. "Commander, I have a message for you." He held out a letter.

Her breath caught – the soft blue of the wax was the same color Kristoff always used for his letters. Hands trembling, Erise slid a thumb along the flap and broke the seal, unfolding the paper with increasing urgency.

She read the letter quickly, hoping, _praying_ that there would be some news. Swallowing hard, she refolded the letter and waved away the boy. Varel watched her with soft golden eyes.

"Kristoff's wife will be here soon. If she arrives before I return, see that she is settled in somewhere comfortable with plenty of room." She tucked the letter into her boot, her stomach fluttering nervously.

"I'll make sure she has everything she needs. I –" Varel shook his head. She gestured at him to continue. "Will you be gone long?"

There was the slightest touch of wistfulness to his tone. "I do not know. Certainly longer than it took to clear the trade route. Perhaps two weeks, but no more than three."

He frowned at her. "And when are you leaving?"

"Will two days be enough to prepare? I need a cuisses repaired before we go." Varel nodded, tight-lipped. "Then that is when I shall leave." He still looked unhappy and she stepped towards him, sliding her hand into his. "I'll come back. I have so far, _oui?_"

"And if you don't?" His voice was hoarse.

"If we do not return in three weeks, send word to Denerim. The king is a Warden and seems a good man. Ask him for a small army." Varel began to protest, but she continued to speak. "You are _not_ to follow, whatever happens."

"I… understand. I don't like this, though. If something happens, there is nothing out there to send word – no traders, no hunters, no farmers." His hand tightened around hers. "Erise, I don't know what we–"

She kissed him. It was too soon to talk in such terms, and she wasn't _quite_ ready to admit she would miss him as well. Still, it was nice to know someone would miss _her_. When she pulled away he tried to talk again, but she raised a finger to his lips and he grew quiet. "We shall speak when I return."

Varel searched her face before his eyes fell. "I'll let you know when everything is ready. Commander." He bowed slightly before leaving.

Erise watched his retreat with a sigh. _Back to that again?_ No matter. Once she had Kristoff to help with the Architect she could devote proper attention to Varel.

* * *

_AN: Thanks, as always, to decantate for the beta! _

_*The Orelsian/French means "Little sister, you're too serious!"_


	8. Loss

The body on the ground was stiff and unmoving, and her heart twisted sharply when it came into view. "_Kristoff?_" There was no answer. "_Mon frère?"_ Erise felt her hands shake as tears filled her eyes. "_Non, non!"_ Unthinking, she ran up the path, trying to ignore the crested armor and shield.

In her haste she didn't see the white tubes quiver and shake, then burst open with hideous childers. Their blood did not call to her and she fell to her knees before Nathaniel's cry reached her ears.

From her knees, she struggled to draw her blade, only half-freeing it before one of the things was upon her. She lifted an arm to shield herself and teeth latched on, tearing through the leather straps of her bracer. The plate fell away and the teeth found flesh. Shrieking, she bashed at its head with her other hand, sobbing frantically when teeth ground against bone.

One hit placed_ just_ right caved in the creature's skull, and all was quiet again save for her loud wails. The other Wardens surrounded her, pinning her down as Anders tried to heal her, picking out bits of chain and skull and dirt as he went. All the while she shook and sobbed and struggled against the corpse of her dead brother.

* * *

It moved like Kristoff. Erise couldn't concentrate with it there – she could sense it, vaguely, but it felt _wrong_. It was in his armor, wielding his weapons, fighting with _his_ rhythm and pace. Worse, it knew how to fight at her side. It defended when she attacked, rushed forward when she was forced to fall back and it had covered her back more than once. She almost felt whole.

The thought left a greasy feeling in her stomach. It had to be ended.

* * *

Varel paced restlessly. Nathaniel had returned two hours ago with news the others were not far behind. His eyes shifted any time Varel tried to question him, and all he would do was ask him to make Erise see reason. Kristoff's wife was uneasy, but she had stayed in the Great Hall.

A voice sounded from the wall. "There's a group on the road. I think it's the Commander."

"Thank the Maker." Varel started out from the gate, trying to keep his pace steady. The Wardens came into view and he could just make out Erise. She was all but staggering and Anders hovered near one shoulder, while Oghren stayed near the other. There was another figure with them, a man that moved with an odd, stiff gait.

As he grew closer, Erise caught sight of him. "Varel!" She tried to run, stumbling and falling hard.

He broke into a jog, focused only on her. He reached her quickly and bent down to help her up. Tears were streaming down her face. "They do not understand! What this thing is doing is _wrong._"

Varel lifted his eyes to Anders, who gestured to the new man. He couldn't stop the gasp – the eyes were dead, the face sunken, but he could still see the resemblance. _Kristoff_. "Dear Andraste, what _happened_?"

Anders spoke quickly. "Long story short, we were trapped in the Fade, got out and dragged a spirit with us. Kristoff was already dead and the spirit is in his body now. He says his name's Justice."

Erise slumped against Varel and the mage let go of her just as she let out a quiet sob. "Please, this isn't right. If Aura arrives to see this–"

"She's already here."

Erise shook her head. "No, she can't see it. This will kill her." She lunged forward weakly, but Varel kept her steady.

"Sigrun, go tell someone to keep her inside. Hurry!" Turning to the mage, Varel did his best to get the Commander upright. "Could you see she gets to the infirmary?" Anders nodded and put an arm around Erise, coaxing her to move as the glow of magic flared around him. Varel watched them go, quelling the urge to follow. "She's hurt. Why didn't Anders heal her earlier?"

The thing that was not Kristoff spoke. "He did. She refused to rest and kept opening up old wounds or injuring herself further. The mage decided it was easier to let her go until she collapsed, then heal her at night when it was too dark to travel." The thing – Justice – looked at Erise with pity in its eyes. "I offered to leave, but she told me I wasn't to 'steal' Kristoff's body, so I remained."

A low sigh came from the dwarf. "Th' Commander lost enough blood to choke a bronto and skirt-boy said she has a bad infection he can't heal right. She's gone a bit nutty, if you ask me." Oghren let out a low belch. "Keeps mutterin' about abominations and burning. He jerked his head towards Justice. "Might wanna keep these two apart for a while."

Varel hated to admit it, but for once he agreed with the dwarf.

* * *

Sweat stung Erise's eyes as she moved through the sword forms. It was not quite dawn, but she was already nearing her third set. Her arms shook from the effort; she was still days from full recovery. It was her own fault, however, and her form would not suffer for it.

"Commander?"

The voice jarred Erise and she stumbled mid-step. The _thing_ had Kristoff's voice and anger surged inside her. "What do you want?"

"I find myself unable to gain your forgiveness. I assure you, this… possession is not my doing." Its tone was steeped in distaste.

Turning to face the sunken mask of her brother, Erise let the bitter tears come. "What should you care of my forgiveness?"

"Some of his memories linger." The thing looked away. "You were not like this when he was alive."

Erise scoffed. "You know nothing of me, or him." She turned away and resumed a defensive stance. "Will that be all?"

She could hear it fidget a few moments. "_Ma petit sœur…_"

Sharpness seared through her chest and she wheeled to face the corpse. Erise stalked towards the thing until their faces were only inches apart. "_Never_ say that again. It is bad enough you steal his voice. Those words are not yours to use."

It stared at her a few moments before a sad smile curved its – _Kristoff's_ – lips. "It's what he called you."Her anger melted away and the ache beneath it sharpened into something so painful she could barely breathe. She nodded once and the thing awkwardly patted her arm. "I'm sorry."

Erise forced herself to meet its dead-eyed gaze. "So am I."

* * *

_AN: Many thanks to Crisium(dot)Rising for the emergency beta!_


	9. Close

Varel pushed away from his desk and stretched. Erise acted as though she was fully recovered, but everyone could see the way her hands shook by the time evening fell. The reports that had filled his desk during her absence continued to come.

Erise had taken to visiting him in the evenings. While he took no small pride in being her safe haven, he was beginning to wonder if her earlier affections had disappeared. She confided in him, and over the last few days she'd been more at peace, if still a little sad. Her departure was always accompanied by a chaste kiss and a wish to sleep well, but the earlier heat hadn't returned. It was worrying – he'd taken his share of lovers since his wife had died, but he had never minded when they drifted away. The thought of Erise doing the same bothered him deeply.

A soft knock sounded at the door. "Varel? May I come in?"

The heavy accent was familiar. "Of course."

Erise slipped into the room, shutting the door quietly behind her before she took the seat across from him. "How are you?" Her posture was easy.

"I'm fine." He cleared his throat and tried to ignore the inquisitive eyebrow she raised at him. "How are you?"

Erise looked at the desk and let out a sigh. "Better than I was." She gave him a small smile. "I've been meaning to thank you. I know I haven't said much, but you have been a great help." When he frowned in confusion she grinned. "I must sound crazy, but it's been nice to have _something_ good amid all that's gone wrong."

Her eyes were intent on his face and Varel swallowed hard. "You said we'd talk when you returned." He'd hoped to sound casual, but there was a sense of urgency to his tone.

Her grin faded and she nodded. "So I did. What do you have to say?"

Varel could hear his heart pounding in his ears. "I've only known you a few months, and this may sound overly forward, but… I want you."

Green eyes widened and there were a few moments of silence before Erise stood and walked to his side of the desk. He moved to stand as well, but she laid a hand on his shoulder and shook her head.

He stared up at her, unable to read her expression. She placed her hands on the chair's arms and leaned down, eyes never leaving his. "Tell me again."

The request made his breath catch. "I want you."

She smiled. "You have me." Her mouth was on his suddenly and Varel let out a soft murmur of contentment.

When she finally broke the kiss, both of them were panting. Erise pressed her forehead against his with a soft sigh. There were so many things he wanted to say, but the silence felt right in a way words didn't.

She moved to kiss him again when a loud knock rattled the door. "_Merde_, again?" Erise closed her eyes and frowned. The knock sounded again, louder this time. She stood and stormed across the room before throwing the door open. "What is it?"

It was Nathaniel, pale and out of breath. "Darkspawn have surrounded Amaranthine. The guard isn't strong enough to keep them out for very long. I don't know how they got a messenger through, but –"

"You and Anders prepare to leave. And… get Justice as well. Meet me at the gate in half an hour. And if you can find a servant. Have them supplies from the infirmary." The other man nodded before running off. Erise was half-way out the door before she turned to Varel. Her face was creased in worry. "Amaranthine should not have been able to get word to us. I don't trust this. Sigrun and Oghren will stay here. Close the gate and double the patrols.

Dread curled in Varel's gut, heavy and slick with fear. "Erise." He stood quickly, shoving the chair aside. He crossed the room and wrapped her in a tight hug. She clung to him and kissed him and for a moment the fear inside him was quiet.

They finally pulled apart and she kept her eyes from his. "I have to go."

He kissed her forehead and tried to keep the tremor from his voice. "I know. Be careful. I'll send word to Denerim for help. Just… come back. Please."

She kissed him once more. "I'll try." Her voice was hollow. She slipped from his grasp and ran down the hall, quickly disappearing from his view.

* * *

Erise grunted as one of the children impaled itself on her sword. The wound under her arm was deep and she could feel the blood trickling down her side. She turned towards the sound of a guttural roar and hacked at the full-grown childer while it lunged at her. An arrow punctured the thing's skull cleanly and she gave a short, grateful shout to Nathaniel.

"No!" The voice belonged to Anders and Erise turned in time to see him run between an old Chantry brother and a hurlock. It swung at him, and he barely blocked it with his staff.

Erise charged forward, letting out a yell that drew the darkspawn's attention. She _wouldn't_ lose another Warden. The pain in her shoulder flared as she swung back, only to deepen as it hit flesh and bone. She cut through the thing's armor easily and bitter blood splattered across her face.

"Maker, I thought I was dead." Anders fumbled with a belt pouch and withdrew a small blue vial, tearing the cork out with his teeth. "I think that's most of them."

Pain flared in her ankle and Erise staggered, nearly falling as she tried to turn. A genlock was setting a crossbow bolt while it grinned at her. "Anders, get down, now!" _Not another one, not the healer…_

A hum in her blood pulled her eyes to Justice. He was running towards the darkspawn, closing the space rapidly, but he was too slow. The bolt hit hard, piercing her plate and chest. Her vision flared white and she had the vaguest sense of falling. Anders' voice was distant and muffled under the frantic pounding of her heart.

As her vision cleared she could see blue sky and thick, black smoke. She tried to sit up – it was too dangerous to just _lie_ there – but she only choked and coughed. She groped around blindly, trying to find her sword. When she finally found the hilt she nearly cried with relief. It was almost too heavy to lift, but it was a weapon and it was _hers_. An odd sense of peace filled her as each breath became more painful and little clouds of bloody mist escaped her lips. She closed her eyes and tried to steady her breath. This was a good death, better than dying alone in the Deep Roads. Her throat felt like it was closing up and tears stung her eyes, but she fought against the panic. She was a Warden. She would die well.

The deafening beat of her heart began to abate, growing softer, slower, _weaker_. Her final breath was echoed with one last flutter of her pulse before the world ended.

* * *

_AN: Sorry for the (almost) late update! Between finals, grading, jury duty and having a night of drinking with my lovely beta decantate, I was running a bit behind! _


	10. Choices

"Come on, you little bastards." Anders was bent on the other side of the Commander, trying to undo the buckles on her breastplate. Nathaniel did his best to work steadily, even though the woman wasn't breathing.

The soft green rune beneath the Commander's form began flickering and Anders cursed loudly.

Nate reached out a hand. "Here, let me get it."

The mage's fingers were slick with blood. Everything was covered; there was so much of it all at once and as much as Anders was intent on saving the Commander, Nathaniel wasn't certain there was anything left _to_ save.

They lifted her breastplate off as one and the ward flashed brightly. "No, damn it, _no_! You're not allowed to die!"

Nathaniel eyed the other man warily. "Anders, if she's dead you –"

"She's not dead, I almost have her!" Light flared around the mage's hands before it plunged into the Commander, and blood began to bubble around the bolt.

Nathaniel held his breath as her chest began to rise and fall.

* * *

Pain pulled her back to life.

Her gasping breath rattled in her ears and Erise tried to focus on the fuzzy shapes hovering over her.

"Sweet Andraste, she's _alive_."

She tried to talk and choked. Her vision turned red as something tugged in her chest. She flirted with unconsciousness and nearly gave in before the blinding pain suddenly subsided. Hands touched her gently and the sharpness was replaced with the sickening sensation of mending flesh.

The sky was bright and hazy and Erise shivered.

"Can you hear me? It's going to be all right."

It was Nathaniel. She struggled to sit up, but the hands on her shoulders held her down.

"Don't talk yet, I'm not fnished." Fingers probed beneath her arm and she let out a soft sob. "I'm sorry." Anders' voice was a hoarse whisper.

A vial was pressed to her lips as her head was tilted up. The familiar taste of blood lotus coated her tongue and she swallowed. The pain ebbed out of her as the potion pooled in her belly.

There was a soft sigh and the hands on her side stopped pressing. "Just one more."

Something was pulled _through_ her ankle and the hiss of her breath turned to a high-pitched wail.

Fingers ran through her hair and Nathaniel bent over her. "It's alright, he's done."

* * *

Erise watched as the guards dragged the darkspawn away. Its protests were unsettling.

Nathaniel let out a snort. "You're really going to leave the Vigil on its own?"

She turned to him. Her heart was beating fast and dread was settling in her gut. "I've done what I can there. Would you have me burn the city?"

"The captain said the corruption has spread! What do we do about that?"

"We kill those who are tainted and save those who are not." Anders let out a low groan at her words, but quieted when she settled her gaze on him. "It is our duty."

Nathaniel shook his head. "And what about Varel?"

Erise turned and drew her sword as she tried to ignore the way the name made her heart twist. "Come. The city awaits."

* * *

The Vigil was quiet. It wasn't silent by any means – there were the soft calls of night birds and the occasional jingle of armor as first watch patrolled the walls. To most men, nothing would suggest that anything was amiss.

Varel was not most men.

The night lacked the easy banter of men on guard. The sound of the hammer at the forge was new and sharply irritating. Wade's partner sat near him, watching with tired, worried eyes. The sky was cloudy, the ground covered in frost and mist rose in front of Varel's face with each breath he took. The chill of the night did not bother him, but the strange set of sounds did.

A shout from the north end of the wall caught his attention and he immediately turned, his feet picking up pace.

"Seneschal, here!"

Varel broke his composure and jogged to meet the man. The guard's face was pale, but he stood with shoulders straight. "There."

A trembling hand pointed to a distant glow. Hulking shapes threw long shadows on the ground while dozens of smaller forms scurried among them.

Moments passed before Varel found his voice. "Get the Wardens."

* * *

_AN: Thanks, as always, to decantate for the beta._


	11. Bound

The night has long passed and the sky burns red through the haze of smoke, but Amaranthine stands. People make their way out of homes and warehouses and tightly-closed shops until the streets are nearly full.

They cheer her.

Their voices break the eerie stillness of the stunned stupor most had been shocked into with the attack. But the darkspawn are dead and the people are _alive_ and they give voice to their joy. Anders nudges her and tells her to smile and wave, but she can only lift her hand and nod.

That night a third of them die. They die by her hand, by Nathaniel's, by Anders', as the corpse watches in disapproval. The people are many things: silent, begging, pleading, screaming, struggling, resigned, accepting. However they meet their fate, each of them dies and adds to the pile of bodies. The blood she and the men spill is irrevocably binding. The mage and the archer finally understand her loss, and she finally begins to see them as brothers. They watch the dead burn through the night and when the sun once again peeks over the distant hills, they are gone.

They head east along the road and each step weighs heavy. Each time they stop for a few hours of sleep, her head fills with the dead and dying, the blood covering her hands and shirt and boots until each dream-step is wet and warm with spilled life. It is not just the people of Amarathine – it is those left at the Vigil, and one above all: silver hair and golden eyes staring up at her as steel cuts his flesh in her mind.

Erise does not sleep until they reach the fields of bones, and even then it is her body's refusal to go further that stops her. The others set watches and the mage deepens her sleep with magic.

She struggles and screams and rends her flesh inside the tightly-locked red hell inside her head. All the while, Justice watches her still, sleeping form and envies her apparent peace.

* * *

_AN: Mid-week drabble with a tense change. We will return to regularly scheduled tenses (and length) Sunday! Thanks to decantate for the onceover! _


	12. Those Left Behind

"Archers, to the eastern wall!" Sergeant Maverlies' voice was faint above the clash of metal.

Varel withdrew his sword from a shriek and glanced at the wall. The archers were quickly scurrying out of sight. There was no indication the horde was lessening.

He swung at a hurlock as it rushed him, elbows threatening to give under the force of impact. His blade cut at the creature messily, and it slumped to the ground with a heavy, wet thud. His head was foggy and his body felt as though it was on the verge of collapse, but the courtyard was once again clear of darkspawn.

The arch above the gate shook as a group of genlocks squirmed through the half-collapsed structure. Sigrun rushed forward and half a dozen men stumbled after her. She laughed as her daggers flashed. The darkspawn fell under their blades, and the men and women of the Vigil gave a small cheer.

Their joy was cut short when the unhinged gate shuddered under a blow and began to fall. Varel felt his stomach leap to his throat. "Sigrun! Move!"

She didn't hear him as she pried a dagger from a genlock's chest. He started towards her, but the stone archway suddenly collapsed. The metal gate groaned under the weight and caved in on itself. Sigrun and her men disappeared beneath iron and stone.

Varel took a step forward as the dust began to clear. "Sigrun?" Silence. He called again, louder. "Sigrun!"

Nothing moved.

There was a brief moment of shocked silence in the courtyard before the quiet was shattered by the loud, guttural roar of an ogre. Varel lifted his sword, suddenly energized by anger and adrenaline. "Forward! The Vigil will not fall!"

His cry was echoed by dozens of voices cheering for Amaranthine, for the Vigil, for the Wardens, and for the first time in days, Varel had hope.

Erise limped backwards and drew her sword. "No." She shook her head. "I will not allow this."

The Architect frowned. "I was afraid you would not listen to reason." A glow surrounded the Architect and he sighed. "You must forgive me for fighting."

Fire began to rain down, heating the air until every breath burned. Erise rushed forward, swinging her sword in a low arc. The blade met a magic barrier and Erise staggered backwards.

Something hit her, _hard_, and she went down with a pained grunt. Utha was on top of her, and the dwarf's fist connected with her jaw with a loud crack. Her vision cleared in time to see the other woman raise her hand again. Erise tried to block, but bone suddenly gave way beneath the fist, and a blinding sharpness took her breath away.

Another hit sent pain searing through her cheek and something inside Erise broke. She let out a scream of rage and bucked her hips. The dwarf almost toppled off before rocking her full weight to one side. In the brief distraction, Erise managed to catch one of Utha's wrists.

A small, strong hand suddenly closed around her neck. Dead grey eyes stared into hers and Erise kicked at the ground frantically. The pressure only increased and the edges of her vision began to grow black. Erise swung an arm blindly until her hand found the dwarf's leg. She groped her way up the woman's armor. Fingernails stung at her skin when her hand found Utha's throat. The dwarf tried to lean away, but couldn't quite escape the other's reach. The grip on Erise loosened a split second before tightening again. She pushed against the dwarf's neck, but as soon as the other woman began to choke, the hand against her own throat pressed harder.

Moments passed and as much as Erise was the larger and stronger, she was at the end of her endurance. Utha began pressing harder as her own grip loosened and the other woman smiled the moment Erise's hand slipped.

A flash of metal was the only warning Erise had. Justice's shield slammed into the dwarf. Erise gulped in air.

Anders bent by her side. "Are you alright?" His eyes looked bright and feverish.

She nodded once. "Yes."

His eyes flicked to her neck, but he said nothing.

As he helped her to her feet, Erise took a slow, deep breath. Her heart was racing. "We're almost done."

The others nodded once.

She stooped and picked up her sword, kissing the pommel lightly. _One more battle_.

_AN: I know, I know, Utha has a sword and shield in-game. Silent sisters are supposed to be unarmed fighters, the Calling backs this up and… well, she's more of a bad-ass this way :D Thanks, as always, to decantate for the beta_


	13. The End of All Things

The Mother screamed and the white tubes around her began to break open. Children crawled out of them, slick with fluid.

Arrows began to pepper the creatures. They writhed and hissed around the shafts that pinned them, and she crushed their heads beneath her feet. The Mother shrieked again as Anders engulfed one of her tentacles in flame.

Erise stumbled forward, vision blurring at the edges as she drew near to the Mother. The broodmother hissed, spittle sputtering out from exposed yellow teeth. A spiked tentacle swung at her, but Erise met the appendage with steel, cutting it almost in two. Every movement felt heavy, slow, but the Mother couldn't run.

With a final rush of energy, Erise drew her sword back and swung with every bit of strength she could muster. The blade bit into the junction of neck and shoulder. The Mother's pained howl was stopped almost as it began as Erise's steel continued to tear through bone and flesh. Erise let out a yell and thrust her weight against the blade, drawing it deeper into the Mother and red-black blood flowed freely over white-grey breasts.

When the frenzied twitching finally stopped, Erise held her breath. The Mother's body slumped.

Long moments passed before Erise drew air again. Her knees collapsed and her own shoulders gave under the weight of thick plate. She drew gasping breaths as tears stung her eyes. Every inch of her was shaking from relief and exhaustion, and she felt as though she'd never move again, but it was _over_.

* * *

The gate had collapsed only a day ago, but it felt like an eternity.

Varel leaned against a wall, hands on his knees as he gasped. His arms and legs burned with the effort of countless hours in battle, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd rested. Something in his gut told him it was the beginning of the end. They men had given ground only when blood had been spilled, and they pushed themselves beyond any of their officers' expectations. There were only so many, no matter how valiant, and the numbers grew fewer by the hour.

There was no word Amaranthine and no help from Denerim. He had been certain Erise would be back by now, hopeful that Denerim would send something, _anything_.

"They're making another push!"

The thought of exerting himself any further made his limbs tremble, but Varel pushed himself away from the wall and stumbled back towards the sound of battle. He would fight.

* * *

Erise shivered and held her hands out to the fire. The heat stung her cold skin and she rubbed her hands together to stimulate the blood. Anders and Nathaniel were hunched close to the flames as well, while Justice sat several feet away.

All of them had barely managed to drag themselves out of the ruins and out of the bone-filled wasteland surrounding it. They were sheltered in a tiny clearing just off the main road and the cold drizzle barely managed its way down through the towering pines.

No one had spoken since she had killed the Mother. She didn't know what to say. The victory had come at such a cost she couldn't say they'd won.

"Who takes first watch?"

Justice let out a quiet grunt and glowered at the mage. "You know I do not require sleep."

The blonde shrugged. "Thought it'd be polite to ask."

Erise watched as the mage and Nathaniel wrapped themselves in their cloaks and settled around the fire.

Justice nodded at her once. "You may sleep as well, Commander."

Her instinct towards the fade spirit was still revulsion and she swallowed hard before gathering a reply. "Call me Erise." The shadow of a smile ghosted across Justice's face. "Anders, Nathaniel, the same for you. What we've been through – we're past titles." The mage murmured something she couldn't quite make out and Nathaniel appeared to already be asleep.

Too heavily armored to properly sleep and too tired and clumsy-fingered to undo straps, Erise closed her eyes and bowed her head. With each rise and fall of breath, she silently prayed to the Maker to forgive her sins.

Each one was counted in the tainted blood of an innocent.

* * *

_AN: Yeah… it's shortish, but vertigo will do that to me. Thanks, as always, to decantate for the beta, and to you, my readers, for the reviews, alerts and general following!_


	14. Victory

Maverlies raised her sword as she watched the last ogre disappear over the horizon. "They're gone!" Her breath came fast and heavy and she couldn't stop the smile that spread over her features. "They're gone!"

There were a few feeble cheers from the courtyard.

She turned towards the soldiers and raised her sword again. "The Vigil stands!"

This time the response was louder, and a few raised their weapons to hers. They echoed her cries of victory until they were hoarse, and though the sun was setting, none of them feared the night. They had won.

* * *

Their return to Amaranthine had been met with the firmly-set jaws and hollow expressions from the guards who knew what the Wardens had done through the night. The guards had built the pyre and carried the dead to it in silence; the Wardens received no blessing and no curse, only a grim, silent acknowledgement.

They had stayed only long enough to eat before pressing on. The keep was nearly in view when the wind carried a scent down the road.

Erise drew a deep breath. The smell of rotting corpses and charred flesh and wood met her nose. It was the scent of battle.

She quickened her pace and the keep came into view. The crenellations were half-collapsed and smoke rose skyward. The gate was a pile of rubble, with a few men crawling over it.

It was then the wind shifted, and a banner atop the wall fluttered. Her footsteps faltered. "Nathaniel. Look."

"That's the royal standard. The king is here!"

She broke into a jog, the footsteps of the other thudding behind her. Her gait was awkward in such heavy plate, but she pushed through despite the way her legs burned.

When they were almost upon what was left of the gate, she raised a hand and they slowed. A man in polished silverite saluted her. "Are you the Commander?" She gave a nod and he gave her a relieved smile. "Sergeant Maverlies will be happy to hear your back. She said you'd come back."

Erise's breath caught. Maverlies was far down the line of command. _Too far_. "Where is she?"

"She's over at what's left of the barracks, but I – hey!"

She was already half-way over the rubble by the time the guard's last cry finished. The smell of death was strongest here and her eyes burned at the way it fouled the air. Tears stung at her eyes and her mind could only recite two words. _Too late. Too late. Too late._

* * *

"Sergeant." The voice was thickly accented.

Maverlies turned sharply. "Commander." Days of hoping she'd see the other woman were finally vindicated. Her throat tightened. The burden of command was finally gone. "I knew you'd come back."

The Commander held out a hand, and Maverlies took it as the woman spoke. "You've done more than anyone could have asked." The Warden nodded her head at the handful of soldiers who had managed to make it through without serious injury. "All of you have." There were quiet murmurs and the Commander gave them a half-smile. "Thank you."

The other woman's green eyes settled on Maverlies, untouched by even that small smile. "Tell me everything."

* * *

Erise's hands itched. The king had insisted on an audience _immediately_. He wasn't a bad sort : young, inexperienced in his role as royalty, but kind and her blood hummed with his presence. He wanted to know everything. She had already told him of Amaranthine's siege, of the Mother and the Architect, but not of what she and the others had done in the city. He was chattering now, lively and a little too-eager to share his own tales of the Blight.

"That first dragon wasn't really necessary, you know, but she insisted on it and…" The king trailed off and settled his gaze on the floor. "Is there anything else that happened?"

She eyed him a few moments before letting out a quiet breath. "Yes." Her mouth worked a few moments as she tried to find the words. "Many of Amaranthine's people were tainted."

The king's hazel eyes settled on her, unusually hard. "What did you do?"

Erise squared her shoulders and met his gaze. "We killed them." She ached to explain her reasons, but they would make no difference to the dead.

The crackling of the fire was the only sound for minutes.

He finally nodded, slowly, and let out a long breath. "You did what was needed." The king stood and his expression made her rethink his apparent youth. "I know how that feels."

Erise rose to her feet and inclined her head. "I am sorry for your loss."

The king smiled. "She would have liked you, I think." His voice was thick.

He stepped forward and embraced her then, and the move was so sudden and strange that Erise nearly didn't return the gesture.

When he pulled away his eyes were wet. "Sister."

Part of her resisted the appellation on instinct, but his tone was warmth weighed with the burden of a shared duty. Her hands trembled now, and her heart clenched in her chest. "Brother."

She stayed in the room long after the king left, turning his words in her head.

* * *

The hall was quiet. Erise knocked lightly on the wooden door before she turned the handle.

The only light in the room was fading with the sun, and she lifted her candle high. "I'm here to change your dressings." Anders and the herbalist had their hands full, and she had offered to help where she could. This was her last stop.

"Erise? Is that you?" Varel's voice was rough and his tone was strange, but it still made her heart jump.

"_Oui, _I'm here." She moved quickly to his side and set the candlestick on the small table by the bed. His face looked ashen and a bandage covered his forehead and most of one eye. "Let me change this." She reached out and touched the strips of cloth lightly.

He grimaced as she unwrapped the cloth to reveal a long, jagged cut. The wound was a dark, angry red and the skin near it was swollen and pink.

"Who cleaned this?" She pressed her fingers to the flushed skin and frowned when she found it hot to the touch. "_Merde_, it's already infected. I need to hot water and more elfroot."

She stood to leave, but he caught her hand in his. "Don't leave." His eyes were over-bright and his grip was weak. "Please."

She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed the tips of his fingers. "I'll only be in another room."

Varel's mouth worked silently for a few moments. "I…" His eyes searched her face and whatever he found there made him relax. "Come back."

Erise leaned down and pressed her lips to his cheek. "I will."

* * *

_AN: Thanks to decantate for the beta! Aaaand, the rating will likely go up next week. One more thing: I had a commission done of Varel and Erise! This is a not-yet-written sort of thing, but it's so wonderful I had to share. Located on her page at mwar [dot] deviantart [dot] com/art/Commission-Varel-and-Erise-192959512_


	15. Entwined

_AN: Pauldrons are the pieces of armor which protect the shoulder, faulds are the pieces that hang from the breastplate to protect the upper thigh, groin and buttocks. Greaves protect the shin._

* * *

Varel woke to the sound of steady breathing. The throb in his gut was gone, and there was a vague memory of Anders bent over him, magic glowing around his hands.

He turned his head towards the soft breaths to find Erise slumped in a chair, eyes closed. Her cheeks looked thinner than he remembered; her skin was sallow, and bruise-purple rings lay under her eyes.

He pushed himself onto his elbows, letting out a low grunt.

Erise shifted and her eyes fluttered open. "Varel? _Comment ça va?_"

Varel smiled. _This _bit of Orlesian he knew. "I'm fine."

Her eyes widened. "Sorry, I forget myself sometimes." Her hand slipped into his, her expression soft. "It's good to see you awake."

"How long was I asleep?"

"A few days. Anders would have healed you sooner, but there were many who needed his skills first."

He laced his fingers with hers and swallowed a lump in his throat. "I missed you."

Her lips curved a little and she nodded. "I missed you, too." She let go of his hand and moved to the dresser. "You must be thirsty."

She returned and pressed a cup to his lips. He lifted a hand to cover hers as he drank, the water cool and clean against his tongue. When the cup was finally drained, he let out a content sigh. "Thank you."

Erise set the cup aside and paused a moment before perching on the edge of the bed. "Should I send for food?"

He shook his head. "No, you need sleep." He lifted a hand to cup her cheek. "When is the last time you slept?"

"Just now, I –"

"For more than a few hours."

She licked her lips. "It's been a few days."

"And before that?"

"The night before I left." She slid her eyes from his gaze and cleared her throat. "I know my limits. I'll be fine."

Varel shook his head. "You need rest. Go to bed and sleep."

Erise turned her head to kiss his palm. "These hours are my own. I wish to spend them with you."

His pulse quickened. "Then sleep here."

Her eyes searched his face for several long moments. A smile slowly crept over her lips and she let out a low noise of approval. "Hmm, that is a good compromise."

She took off her boots and settled beside him in the bed, back pressing against him. Varel slid an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. There was a brief moment when she tensed and he feared he had been too familiar, but she melted against him with a quiet sigh.

* * *

Long years of discipline woke Erise a little after the dawn and she slid from the bed carefully to pull on her boots. For all that she wished to stay, duty called.

* * *

It felt good to face the practice. The morning air was cold enough to sting his lungs when he drew in breath, but it was invigorating. A few of the soldiers were back at practice and it made him feel a little more normal.

"Varel."

He turned, smiling before he saw her. "Erise." They hadn't had time alone since the night they'd spent together over a week ago. She looked better, her eyes bright, posture easy.

She eyed his armor approvingly. "Good to see you out here again." Her mouth twitched at one corner and she tilted her head. "I'd like to discuss something with you, if you don't mind."

He shook his head. "Of course not."

"Alone." Her eyes slid to the men exchanging blows.

Varel raised an eyebrow at her, but she only smiled and turned towards the keep.

He followed her, mind racing. It was still early and the halls were quiet, their footsteps the only thing that disturbed the silence. When they reached her office, she gestured for him to enter first.

The sound of the lock scraping into place made his breath catch. She turned to him, eyes intent. "I've a confession."

He licked his lips as his stomach did a little flop. "Oh?"

She nodded slowly and stepped towards him. "I do not intend to say much."

Erise kissed him then, mouth insistent and warm against his own. She teased his lips apart with her tongue. Her hands were in his hair and his were at her waist and they were clinging to each other.

She broke the kiss suddenly and let out a slow, shaking breath. "I want you. I _need _you, Varel. Please."

With those words, his world became perfect.

* * *

His mouth covered hers again, his tongue slipping between her lips to stroke hers. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she ached to have him touch her, to feel his skin pressed against hers, to have him _inside_ her. She was torn between pulling away to find the straps and buckles holding the damnable armor in place, and staying firmly locked in his arms.

With an unhappy grunt she broke the kiss and began to fumble at the clasps. He quickly joined her, the urgency rising until she could barely focus. She needed this – needed _him_ – and nothing was going to stop them this time. A pauldron clattered to the floor, loud against the stone, only to be quickly joined by other pieces and bits that weren't _supposed_ to be undone. By the time his breastplate and faulds were off, she was tugging at his chainmail shirt roughly, cursing when it caught on part of a bracer she'd overlooked.

"Maker, Erise, slow down and I can get it." Varel's voice was rough.

"No." Her head was spinning and she tugged at a stubborn strap before it gave way. The chain shirt came off easily then, and she nearly whimpered when he bent to remove his greaves. She pushed his hands away and worked at the buttons on the thick wool padding. "No." Words failed her as she pushed the padded jacket from his shoulders. She ignored his wide-eyed stare and tugged his tunic upwards. He complied, peeling it off as she moved her hands to the exposed skin. He was broad-chested and well muscled, and a few pale scars streaked across his skin. She traced a long, wide mark down his ribs, drawing a gasp. She settled her lips against his collarbone and nipped lightly. As his hands slid beneath her shirt she let out a soft, happy sigh. "Yes."

* * *

She was eager and insistent; it took every ounce of control to not meet her frenzied pace. He ached to bury himself inside her _now_, but he wanted to hear his name on her lips before he took her.

When her mouth closed over a nipple, he let out a low groan and pulled at her shirt. She reluctantly pulled away long enough for him to tug it over her head. She had more scars than he did, splattered across chest, ribs, stomach, arms in a mess of lines and blotches. He let out a slow breath and touched one below her collarbone reverently. "How badly were you hurt?" The scar was jagged and nearly as wide as his hand, and the soft pink color told him it was fresh.

Her skin flushed and he bent his head to kiss the mark. She pressed her lips to his temple and he could feel the way her mouth trembled against his skin. "Not now. I'll tell you everything later. I promise."

There was nothing more to be said, and he moved to untie her breastband, letting his lips linger at her neck. When the fabric fell away he wrapped his arms around her, pressing her against him. She felt warm and wonderful, and he nipped at her earlobe when she writhed against him. The delighted laugh that broke from her lips stirred something inside him, and his hands were on her hips, pushing her back towards the desk. She obliged, whispering foreign words, but her tone told him everything: need.

When her legs hit the back of the desk he cupped her bottom and lifted her on to the smooth wood. He tugged at her pants and was delighted when she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung while he slid them from her hips. Her smallclothes quickly followed, leaving her bare. He took her in with his eyes and trailed his hands over her breasts and stomach. She was _beautiful_. Her breasts were just full and her body felt as toned and strong as it looked. His hands drifted lower and he drew a gasp when his fingers brushed the curls between her legs.

He kept his hand there, stroking lower and more insistently until she grew slick. She rolled her hips against his touch and moved a hand to tug at the tie on his breeches. When she slid her hand inside his smallclothes and grasped him, he let out a quiet groan. He could feel every callus on her palms and fingers and –

He reluctantly moved to his knees, away from that hot, grasping hand and the temptation of release. She gave him a confused frown, and he leaned in to kiss her stomach, dipping his tongue into her navel as he slid a finger inside her.

* * *

"Let me please you." His voice was low and rough and she couldn't remember the last time mere _words_ had made her head spin.

She nodded once as she tried to catch her breath. "Yes."

There was a momentary glimpse of the smile on his face before he trailed his mouth towards her sex. His tongue was light and teasing, almost to the point of being maddening, but he answered her frustrated whimper with a long, firm lick that made her thighs tremble. The finger already inside her stroked in a way that made her knees weak, and when he added a second she gripped the edge of the desk to steady herself.

His mouth was clever and knowing as he drew out her response, little gasps and groans that gathered in her throat. Suddenly his lips closed _there_ with a soft suck and she was arching into his mouth, veins flooded with molten heat.

There was no respite. His free hand lifted and pushed her legs wider, allowing him fuller access to her center. He was relentless, paying no heed to the way she shook and whimpered, and when she tangled a hand in his hair it only encouraged him further.

Those thick fingers made her ache for him, and his tongue was working her close again. She was too sensitive, too close and –

"Varel!" His name was a shuddering gasp on her lips as the orgasm rippled through. "Please."

He licked her in one long stroke that made her shiver. "Hmm?"

She tilted his head back until he met her gaze. "Take me."

* * *

Varel withdrew his fingers as he stood, smiling when the act drew an unhappy little sigh from her lips. He kissed her as he settled between her legs, moaning softly at the way the taste of her sex mixed with the taste of her mouth. She deepened the kiss with a tilt of her head and her hand was suddenly gripping his erection as she guided him to her entrance.

He tried to steady himself before pushing in, but she hooked a leg around his waist and her arms around his shoulders. He slid into her in one long, smooth stroke.

She was all tight, wet heat and grasping arms, and he nearly lost himself to the sensations. He gripped her hips and began to move.

His breath grew faster and more uneven with each stroke. Her mouth roamed over his neck and her teeth tugged at his earlobe, each kiss and nip unraveling his self-control. She hooked her other leg around his hips, changing the angle, and _Maker_, the pressure was almost unbearable.

Varel tried to slow down and pull away, but she tensed her legs and drew him closer.

A desperate whimper escaped his lips. "I'm too close-"

"I don't care."

The words tore away the last shred of self-possession. He buried his face against the crook of her neck, thrusting fast and deep until his pleasure peaked. His pulse pounded in his ears as he spilled himself inside her, breath ragged and gasping.

Erise sighed against his neck as her fingers stroked his hair. "_Mervielleux._"*

He pulled away just enough to see her face and found her wearing a lazy smile. He lifted a hand to stroke a damp strand of hair from her eyes and let out a quiet breath. "You're beautiful."

She laughed and hugged him tight against her. "Come to me tonight?"

He nodded. "Yes." He kissed her neck and ran his hands along her sides. "Maker, yes."

* * *

_* - Wonderful_

_Thanks always to decantate for the beta! Smut at last! Many props to xenzen for playing comma fairy/armor expert post-posting._


	16. Confession

Erise frowned. "This is poor pillow talk."

"You promised." He ran a thumb along her collarbone. "Tell me." Lips brushed across her cheek. "Please."

She let out a soft sigh. "What do you wish to know?"

"Everything. You haven't said much." His mouth moved to kiss a spot below her ear.

Her skin prickled until her scalp itched at the light touch. "You are distracting me."

Varel let out a low laugh against her neck. "So I am." He pulled away, rolling to his side and propping his head on his hand. "I'm listening."

She took a deep breath. "We travelled through the night and arrived in Amaranthine in the morning."

* * *

Erise's gaze flitted to him, expression guarded. "The people cheered us." She paused a few moments. "One in three were tainted."

Something in his belly tightened uncomfortably. "What did you do?"

She rolled away from him and ran a hand through her hair. "We killed them."

His mouth went dry. He _knew _people in Amaranthine: merchants and priests and guardsmen and innkeepers. He had expected some of them would have died, but not like that. Not at her hand.

Varel licked his lips. "Erise, I -"

"It was our duty." Her voice was thick, and her accent weighed down each word. "Anders and Nathaniel did well."

He touched her shoulder and she stiffened with a sharp breath. "You did what you had to." The words seemed to crumble as he said them.

"I did. And I feel no better for remembering that."

He shifted towards her and slid an arm around her waist, pulling her to him.

She settled against him with a long, low breath. "I have had to do this many times, but I have not felt like this since the first."

Varel pressed his lips against her hair. "I'm sorry."

She rolled over to face him and gave him a sad little half-smile. "I told you this was poor talk for bed."

"You did. And you haven't even finished your story."

Erise gave a short, disbelieving laugh. "You still want to hear more?"

"I do." He traced along a pink scar that pulled tightly across her cheek. "Tell me how you got this."

She ran her eyes over his face, brow wrinkling. "That is it? I tell you I killed dozens of innocents, and you wish to know about a cut?"

"What do you want me to do?" He rolled to his back and rubbed a hand over his face "Treat you like a monster?"

"No, I-" She sighed softly. "I am sorry."

He said nothing for several long moments.

"It was a dagger."

Varel gave her a sidelong glance. "What?"

"The scar. A hurlock tried to take my head off."

He frowned. "Why weren't you wearing a helmet?"

"The dragon dented mine badly." Erise gestured dismissively. "It was useless."

He pushed himself onto his elbows and stared at her. "Maker, what were you doing fighting a dragon?"

The corners of her mouth twitched. "Trying not to get eaten."

Varel shook his head and drew in a hissing breath. "I think you should start a little before the dragon." He settled against the bed with a soft sigh.

Erise shifted and pressed herself against him. He hesitated a moment before sliding an arm around her shoulders.

She smiled at him before tucking her head under his chin. "We travelled along the coastal road, heading west."

The story flowed like snow in spring, trickling from her mouth before it grew faster, more certain, and the words finally flowed in a torrent.

* * *

"She will live."

Erise closed her eyes with a soft sigh of relief. "Good. Get her and the others settled once they wake. I'll welcome them properly at dinner."

Anders nodded at her once before turning to the unconscious Wardens. Four lived.

"Nathaniel, help me, please." She knelt down by Terence's head. The man had been a merchant's guard through the Blight, plenty skilled and seasoned. She thought he, of all the recruits, would have survived.

The body was heavy with death as they struggled towards the empty courtyard. By the time they'd heaved the man onto the wood, Erise's brow was damp with sweat.

Nathaniel handed her a small barrel of oil before turning back inside for a torch.

She emptied it over the body and wood, whispering quiet prayers under her breath until the air was thick with the scent of oil.

She stepped back as Nathaniel moved forward, torch in hand. The pyre flared brightly, heat pulsing out so sharply it took her breath away.

Erise watched long after Nathaniel had left, long after the fire had turned to embers, and only bones were left among the ash.

"Erise?"

She turned sharply, startled by the sudden noise.

Varel stood there, holding out a hand. "The new Wardens are up and Mera said dinner is nearly done. I'll see to the ashes' burial later.

Erise nodded absently. "Of course." She kissed her fingertips and bent down to press them to the warm earth near the pyre's remains. "Rest well, brother."

She straightened slowly and took Varel's hand. "I should clean up."

He ran a thumb over her cheek and pulled it away black. "Are you alright?"

"Yes." She squeezed his hand lightly before releasing it. "He died a Warden. The others need me now."

"We all do."

She smiled. "Flatterer." At his soft laugh, she nodded her head towards the door.

They walked together in silence.

* * *

_AN: Many, many thanks for deca doing a great beta job, despite being swamped with school. Speaking of which, next week will be a drabble only – I need to put some serious work into my thesis proposal!_


	17. Time

Spring tumbles to summer, then autumn, where the weather seems to linger. The Vigil is stitched together with mortar and granite, the masons slowed by the odd night of freezing rain. Winter arrives abruptly, with a singly marvelous night and day of snow that softens the sharp corners of fresh-hewn stone.

Steam rises from the training yard, off of bodies and out of mouths, as the Wardens duel each other. The rogues dart and spin while the warriors defend and attack with a steady, deadly patience.

Erise watches them, smiling when three or four group together, shifting and fighting around the humming in their blood. There are thirteen now, besides herself, and only four names grace the slim stone post that stands watch over bones and ashes.

She claps her hands and the fighters slow. Thirteen pairs of eyes settle on her. Their breaths puff from their cheeks and she smiles. They are her Wardens.

* * *

He is almost asleep when she shifts off him with a quiet noise of discontent. The cool night air is startling after the heat of her skin, and he tugs the blankets over his chest.

She kisses him lightly before pressing her forehead to his. "Good night."

Varel tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her mouth against his, nibbling at her bottom lip until she sighs against his mouth.

"Stay the night."

She smiles and shakes her head. "I must be up early."

He knew the answer before he asked; the words are almost a ritual between them now.

She dresses quietly before slipping out the door and shutting it with a soft click. Varel stares at the slats of wood while he turns three words over in his head.

In the end, he decides they are better kept to himself.

* * *

Erise's jaw is stiff and sore by the time her fourth Landsmeet is finished. The nobles (aside from the king and queen) are all careful not to confront her directly, and the king and his queen are generous hosts.

Whispers follow her everywhere.

She is the cousin of the Empress, no, her sister, sent to claim the lost lands for Orlais. More still have her training darkspawn to conquer Ferelden, and another has her trying to bed the king. Worst of all (to the whisperers) are the ones which are true: her mother left Ferelden for her father; she is respected, but not loved; she is bedding her steward, a commoner.

The room at the palace is very fine, but the next day she leaves for home.

* * *

She seeks out his bed upon her return, and when he asks her to stay, she does.

He so desperately wants to say _something_, but he stays silent, and a new word joins three.

_Why?_

He doesn't ask, and she doesn't explain, but she no longer leaves his bed before dawn.

* * *

Months later, on a late night when she comes to his bed for sleep and the comfort of his presence, the three words slip out against her hair.

She tenses and he can hear her draw a sharp, short breath.

"_Pardon?_"

"I love you." The words, so long restrained inside his head, feel strange and new in his mouth.

Erise rolls to face him with a frown. "You should not say such things."

He swallows hard. "It's been five years –"

"And I have five more left, at best."

His skin prickles and feels uncomfortably tight, and it is only _now_ he sees the quiver of her jaw and hears the waver in her voice.

"That doesn't matter."

Her gaze settles on his chin. "Doesn't it?"

There are a dozen things he can say: that it _does_ matter, because he loves her; that he loved her knowing he'd outlive her; that he does his best to forget how little time they have before the Taint claims her.

The words well at the back of his throat, eager to spill out, and he covers her mouth with his instead. She clings to him as tears run down his cheeks and he pours his desperation into the kiss.

When he breaks away, he whispers that he loves her as she shakes quietly in his arms.

Her breathing settles sometime later, when his own tears are finished and his tunic is damp between them.

She shifts and strokes his hair with trembling fingers. "I love you, too." Her voice is hoarse and faint, and the words are beautiful.

* * *

_AN: Thanks to decantate for the once-over!_

_AN: 13 Feb - My voltage converter blew a fuse and my comp can't run on US power without it. I'm without my mostly finished chapter, and I don't know if I'll be able to get a new fuse before I leave for a research trip Wednesday. I will update by 26 Feb at the latest!_


	18. Duty's Call

The bread in her mouth turned to ashes. Erise stared at parchment until her vision blurred. Her chest grew uncomfortably tight, her breathing short and shallow.

_Duty_. It had never been easy, but she had done it for the Wardens. She had done what was demanded, no matter the price exacted on her soul. She had been loyal and obedient for twenty-seven years, and Weisshaupt was _still_ not finished with her.

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it refused to go away.

Twenty-seven years of service. Twenty-seven years of killing and taking orders, of sacrifice and command, of putting all else aside for the Wardens. She had been a fool to think they were done with her.

The door opened and Jena swept in. It only took a moment before she clucked in disapproval. "You've hardly touched your breakfast! I – " She stopped abruptly as Erise met her gaze. "You're pale as fresh laundry, are you sick?"

Erise shook her head and turned the letter over in her hands. "No." Her voice was raw. "Have Renly and Petyr fetch my trunk. I leave in the morning."

Jena let out a sigh. "How long will you be gone this time? A week? Two?"

The pressure in Erise's chest seemed to gather and sharpen. "I will not return."

The maid gaped at her a few moments. "Commander?"

Erise threw dropped the letter onto the desk. "Weisshaupt has called me to them. The new Warden-Commander will arrive in a month."

There was a long minute of silence as the weight of her words sunk in. "I… I'll have your trunk brought up. Would you like help packing?"

"Yes." Erise licked her lips. "I would like that very much."

"Shall I find Varel?"

Her jaw worked, but her mouth was dry and her tongue felt clumsy. She nodded once. "Please."

* * *

Jena's words still rang in Varel's ears. _"The Commander is leaving tomorrow! For good, she says!"_

He refused to believe it.

He had spent most of his adult life alone, taking lovers, losing them, finding new ones. They were simple relationships borne of mutual attraction and not a little lust.

Erise was different.

Varel had not meant to fall in love with her. She was an Orlesian, an Arlessa, a commander. She was calm and calculated, cool-eyed even when she spoke of slitting a man's throat.

And then he had seen _her_, underneath the Warden and the foreigner.

Erise was loyal. She was devout and caring, and she made the other Wardens brothers and sisters in more than name. She was warm and passionate, and the way she said his name still made his breath catch.

She was _his._

And she was not.

In bed, or in the few quiet moments they found in deserted corners of the Keep, she was his. But there were many more hours and many more places when she belonged to the Wardens, to Amaranthine, to Ferelden.

He let out a slow breath before stepping through the open door.

Erise stood at her desk, hands gripping the edge. Her head was bowed.

"Jena told me-" He swallowed hard and inhaled sharply. "She said – " He couldn't give voice to his fear.

Erise's shoulders slumped. "Weisshaupt has called me to them. I am leaving."

"Why?" Varel's voice was sharp. "Why you? Why now?"

She looked up at him. "I don't know." She pushed away from the desk and ran a hand through her hair. "I don't know."

"There has to be a reason. They can't just… force you."

"They can." Erise began pacing, hands moving in sharp, aggressive gestures. "They can and they _do_. Weisshaupt gives orders and expects them to be followed. It is how they have always been."

Varel let out a frustrated grunt. "And you're just going to follow?"

Erise turned to face him, posture stiff. "I am a Warden. I will do what is asked of me until I die."

"They're not going to _let_ you die."

For a few moments she looked hurt, but something shifted and her face went smooth. "I need to pack."

"That's it?" Panic edged around the anger in his voice. "You're leaving everything? What about the Arling, and the Wardens. What about… what about _us_?"

Her tightly clenched jaw quivered and she looked away. "I have my duty, I- " Her breath hitched and she cleared her throat. "I am sorry."

The waver in her voice shattered the anger. "Maker, Erise."

She only nodded and took a few steps toward him. "Forgive me."

He closed the distance and wrapped his arms around her. She hugged him fiercely. "I'm sorry." She inhaled sharply. "I'm so sorry."

"There's nothing to forgive."

She pulled away a little and shook her head. "I wasted too much time being proud and stubborn."

Despite the way the heaviness gathered in his gut, he smiled a little. "I like you when you're stubborn."

Erise kissed his cheek and settled against him with a low sigh. "I don't want to leave you."

He closed his eyes and echoed her quiet breath. "I know."

They stayed until footsteps echoed from the hallway, and he reluctantly pulled away.

"Come to me tonight?" Her voice was hoarse.

He nodded. "Of course."

* * *

Her breath caught as she settled over him. She watched his face and smiled when his eyes fluttered closed with a low groan.

"Erise."

She leaned down and nipped at his neck until he gripped her hips and thrust up. Erise sighed as he filled her, and when he began to withdraw she rolled her hips _down_, keeping him deep.

The rhythm was familiar and she knew his body and sounds, yet every gasp and whimper she drew from his lips was newly exciting.

Knowing fingers slid between her legs, stroking her until her calves trembled and her pleasure peaked. His name caught in her throat and turned to a groan.

Varel's hands stroked up and down her sides, thumbs ghosting over her nipples as she caught her breath. His were intent on her face, and when she smiled at him his breath hitched.

"Lie back."

She shifted off and rolled to her back. He settled over her quickly, mouth covering hers in a long, deep kiss. Teeth nipped her lip as he slid back inside her, and she arched against him, taking him deep.

He set a slow, steady pace that nearly drove her mad. Each time Erise tried to quicken his thrusts he only smiled and shook his head.

Teeth scraped across the skin of her neck and she writhed against him. She was so _close_ again, but everything was just drawn out enough to deny her a release.

* * *

"Please." The word burst from her lips in desperate tones.

Varel trailed his mouth up her neck to hide his smile. "Hmm?"

She struggled beneath his weight half-heartedly. "You are teasing me."

He laughed lightly and his warm breath tickled her ear. "Never."

As her brow furrowed he thrust against her and drew a gasp. She dug her fingers into his shoulders as he buried himself inside her, faster, harder, than before. The roll of her hips kept pace until she tightened around him, but by then his breath had grown ragged and the pressure inside him became unbearable.

He met his release as she went boneless and buried his face against her neck. The sound of their panting filled the room until she lifted a shaking hand to his hair. "I love you."

Varel shifted onto an elbow and nodded. "I love you, too." He cleared his throat. "Erise, I-"

"I know." She licked her lips. "I know. Just…" she closed her eyes and let out a low breath, "don't leave me tonight."

He kissed her lightly. "I'm yours."

* * *

Varel half-opened one eye to find the first glimmers of dawn lighting the room . He rolled over and reached for Erise. His eyes snapped open the moment he found empty covers. He scrambled out of bed, fear gripping his chest. Maker damn her if she'd already left.

"Varel?"

He turned and let out a heavy sigh. "You're still here."

"For a little longer. I was just going to wake you." She moved to him and slipped her arms around his waist. "Good morning."

He lifted a hand to cup her cheek. "Good morning." Varel swallowed hard. "I'm going to miss you."

She nodded. "I will write when I can."

Tears stung at his eyes and he shook his head. "I will too. I just… I don't know how to say goodbye."

Her lips pressed against his palm. "Neither do I."

"So, do we pretend this is another mission?"

She let out a shaking breath. "No. We do what we must." Her eyes slid to his shoulder. "If you find someone else before-"

"I love _you_, and I'm almost sixty. I'm too old for someone new."

"I would have said the same before you."

A low knock sounded at the door. "Commander, the wagon is ready."

Erise closed her eyes and called out. "I will be there soon." Her hands settled on his hips, fingers trembling against his skin. "Varel."

He pressed his lips to hers and slid his fingers into her hair. She tensed a moment before she sighed against his mouth. Everything instinct told him to beg her to stay or follow her across the sea, but duty bound them both.

When they broke apart her eyes were wet. "Take care of yourself. Write me." She let out a long breath. "Don't forget me."

Varel tried to smile, but his mouth kept slipping into a frown. "I could never forget you."

Her lips curved and she nodded. "I love you."

He slid his hand in hers and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "And I love you. Travel safely."

Her mouth worked wordlessly and she finally shook her head. "Goodbye." With a final squeeze, her fingers slid from his and she all but fled the room.

Varel stared at the door a long time before he sat down heavily on her bed. She was gone.

* * *

_AN: Oh, end slides. You and your evil way of changing my plots. Sorry for the two week hiatus! Last Sunday was planned, but the other was technical difficulties. Everything should wrap up next week! A dozen thank yous to nearia(dot)awakened for the beta!_


	19. Release

"You are finally here!" The voice is deep and booming, the accent pure West Anderfel. Erise turns to be swept into a tight hug against a massive chest.

"It is so good to see you!" A tall, broad man steps back and lets out a low chuckle. "Come now, surely you recognize me?"

He is half-bald and all beard, but blue eyes and a crooked smile tickle the back of her memory. "Tahvel? Is that you?"

He grins. "Still remember me after all these years, eh?"

She nods and smiles. "Many, many years. How have you been?"

Tahvel gives her a good natured slap on the back that stings. "Excellent! I am on the First's council, and there is time yet before the Deep Roads call. What of you? How was Ferelden?"

"It was…" Erise stops. Heartbeats pass before she can reply. "I will miss it."

He shakes his head and laughs. "Ha! Next you'll be telling me you have grown fond of dogs! Come, there is much to speak of before you meet the First."

* * *

The Vigil is full of strangers.

There are too many new faces: servants and cooks, guards and lieutenants, laborers and Wardens. The last aren't really his concern, but they would have been hers, and he chafes against Ferrin's aloofness.

The new commander jealously guards the Wardens and ignores the rest of the keep, only stepping in when he wants more of one thing or another. Ferrin has no temper that Varel can discern, but there's a cold sort of distance he can't quite overcome. For all that Varel reminds the new commander the Arling belongs to the Wardens, Ferrin remains content to leave it all on Varel's head.

Three of Erise's Wardens – for that is how Varel thinks of them – have left. Others mutter when the Wardens from the Free Marches are absent. Ferrin's Wardens – for that is what they _are _– lead the expeditions.

Varel says nothing and quietly writes of his concerns to Weisshaupt.

* * *

Tahvel frowns at the parchment. "I will see what I can do. The First wishes Amaranthine to succeed."

Angry words bubble in her throat, but Erise saves them for the First. "Thank you, Tahvel. The Ferelden Wardens deserve better than that."

He nods and strokes his beard. "Give me a list of replacements you think would do well. It will go better that way."

Relief settles into her bones. "You shall have them in an hour."

* * *

_I hope the new commander suits you more than the last. The nobles may protest, but I think this may be best._

_ You are ever in my thoughts,_

_ Erise._

Varel can't help the smile that tugs at his lips. The nobles have already protested, not three weeks past Ferrin's departure, but it _is_ for the best. The shy little boy that sulked in the shadow of his elder brother has grown into a fair-minded man. A Howe is lord in Vigil's Keep once more, but this time Varel is proud to serve.

* * *

Erise scrubs a hand through her hair and sighs.

A low chuckle echoes in the room and she turns. Tahvel leans against the door frame. "You did that whenever I frustrated you."

"Then it is a wonder I have any hair left."

He laughs and takes the chair at her side "Any luck?"

"No. I have gone through half the books in Weisshaupt and spoken with Fiona a dozen times." Erise shoved the book away. "This is useless. The answers are not here, they are running around the Deep Roads."

"You are angry."

She pauses a brief moment before nodding. "I feel my time here has been useless."

"I could make it less so, if you wish." Tahvel brushes the back of his fingers against her cheek.

His touch is as warm as she remembers as she takes his hand. "I have a lover. You know this."

"A lover who does not follow you." Tahvel sighs. "And now you give me that look. Forget I asked. We are still friends, yes?" At her nod he stands and stretches. "The First will not be happy when you remind him Wardens should be in the Deep Roads. He may punish you by making you lead an expedition."

Erise echoes the wry smile on Tahvel's lips.

* * *

Four months have passed since a letter has borne her name. A too-familiar lump rises in his throat and Varel swallows and hopes for the best.

The Vigil hardly needs him now; Nathaniel's insistence Varel pick and train a replacement has served its purpose. The idea that Nathaniel thinks Varel is too old or too overwhelmed to take care of the keep's many tasks is made worse by the fact it is increasingly true.

He aches for purpose.

On a night he can't sleep, and Nathaniel is gone, purpose comes.

The form, swathed in fabric despite the warm summer night, says nothing. The scrawled letter is presented, bearing the seal of the Wardens. Varel guides the stranger to a room and assures all can be taken care of in the morning

"It can't wait."

The voice makes his heart skip. He turns to the figure and lifts shaking hands to the hood that keeps the face in shadow.

She shies away, but does not protest, and when the fabric falls back her face goes tight.

"Maker."

The woman before him is familiar and foreign. The features are right, but her skin is fishbelly white and the circles beneath her eyes are so dark they are nearly black. "Erise."

She throws her arms around him and buries her face against his neck. He can feel tears on his skin and he holds her tight.

"What happened? What's wrong?"

"This is my Calling."

The words twist in his gut. "It's early."

"I thought I would have time to get back to you. I was leading an expedition. The First said he would let me come back after it was finished and," her breath hitches and she shakes against him, "I should have written, but I was in too much of a hurry."

He wants to ask what had her so rushed, but she pulls away and pushes her cloak from her shoulders. She is painfully thin and her eyes are hazed and feverish. He can't help the gasp that escapes his lips.

She swallows hard and drops her gaze to her feet. "I cannot stay long." Her fingers toy with a loose thread, twisting and tugging and shaking as though she's freezing.

Varel takes a hand in his and runs a thumb along bony knuckles. "How long _can_ you stay?"

She shifts her weight and shudders. "A few hours. I... I barely made it here." Her teeth begin to chatter. "I want to die, I_ need_ to, but I had to see you. Had to tell you I should have stayed." Tears run down her cheeks as she lifts a hand to cup stroke his hair. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Varel kisses her palm closes his eyes.

Lips brush against his brow. "It will be all right."

He should be soothing_ her_, but the words dull the ache in his heart just a little. "How can you say that?"

"Nothing can be worse than this." The words are fervent and desperate.

"Come to my room."

She tenses and pulls away. "Varel, I can't-"

"I know. Tell me everything before you go."

* * *

When her words are spent, Erise goes boneless against the bed. It is the first time she has been warm since the darkspawn began to crawl inside her head. Sleep nearly seems possible, though she has forgotten that too. For a moment her mind is quiet and she almost weeps with relief.

The nightmares come creeping back, but someone holds her down when she tries to flee. A voice pierces through the hisses and growls that echo in her skull.

"Shh, it's me. It's Varel. It's just a dream."

She does weep then: because he doesn't understand; because she left him; because the voices are real and the Calling is beautiful and her blood burns to answer.

When he kisses her temple it is wonderful and terrible. He feels so human and kind and she is certain she has not been either thing for a very long time.

His breathing settles sometime later, and though she no longer dares to sleep, she can remember a little of who she is, so she clings to it and him.

* * *

Varel clenches his hands as Erise stumbles down the road. Every inch of him aches to go, but he cannot die in her place. The Vigil may need him yet, and she was gone long before she arrived.

He stays on the wall long after she has disappeared.

* * *

Her nose is filled with the scent of dirt and blood, and the corruption around her seems to throb with each beat of her heart. Her hands are slick with sweat and the sword only seems to get heavier as she goes deeper into the earth. The wound in her side is still trickling blood, wet and warm. The pain and panic surface when the Call grows quiet, but it never lasts for long. It is all around her; it is _inside_ her.

She doesn't notice the arrow that pierces her chest until the breath she draws stops short. Blood bubbles between her lips, metal and salt and beautiful, bitter corruption. Another thud and pain cuts through the Call. She lifts her sword half-heartedly, but the air is suddenly filled with cries and grunts and the air is thick with arrows.

A sword through her middle makes her legs give way and she crumples to the ground, wondering why the pain is gone and her lungs barely work. The Call finally leaves her, spilling to the ground with her blood. She thinks of him and smiles.

* * *

_AN: It's two days late (there is no spring break in grad school!) and definitely on the long side, but... it's done! Thank you, thank you to decantate, as well as Nearia(dot)awakened, and Crisium for betas. Thank you to the followers and reviewers for being so responsive - you've been absolutely lovely to have along for the ride._


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